Shaq
Just finished a River Runs Through it!
Day 2.5 and more to come when I sort them out
Montana July 18-25, 2007
July 17th
5:30pm Eastern Time: Today was brutal, as the day before a weeklong trip tends to be. Seven days in southwestern Montana. I can’t believe that it is finally here. We have been planning this trip since February and while talking about it, I kept feeling like someone else was going and I was telling people about a friend of mine that was going to Montana. However, it was me leaving work and telling people that I’d be out all week, finishing up some odds and ends and heading out the door.
11:00pm Eastern Time: Odds and ends are tied up and the gear is packed. Sleep came surprisingly easy for me tonight.
July 18th
I awoke suddenly. Did I miss it? 2 Am. What day is it? I peed and headed off to sleep again. The next time I opened my eyes, it was 3am. Then it started. My mind was awake and my body wanted more sleep. I thought about the trip. I always wanted Montana. The trout per mile numbers rivaled the summer I spent guiding in Alaska and this time I envisioned dry flies instead of egg flies and indicators. I tried to tune out all the thoughts and lay still for at least 15 minutes. I glanced at the clock. 3:01 Am. This continued until 4:30 when I got up, took a shower and packed the car. I went back upstairs, kissed my wife and drove away.
6:00 Am Eastern Time: I met Kieth at the Newspaper and it was a smooth transition. I was ready. Kieth was ready. In the airport, we were so excited, wee walked up to the wrong terminal and couldn’t figure out why they did not have us listed. We figured it all out, went up to the Delta counter this time and received our boarding passes. The first leg of the trip to Chicago was on time and left a few minutes early. We figured if we could get through Chicago, we would be alright however, we knew from a trip to Colorado a few years back, this was not always an easy task. That trip was labeled “The Nearly Disastrous Trip” and we were not looking for a repeat of that one.
9:00 Am Central Time: Chicago. I sat, watching bags being loaded on the plane. Mine was in the mix, I could relax. We boarded the plane that would take us to Bozeman, the captain came on and predicted smooth sailing and we took off, on time. The flight is 2 hours and 40 minutes and 1000 miles, 61 degrees and 2hrs flight time. Looking out the window, I could tell we were leaving the mid-west and entering some gorgeous country. At 11,000 feet, if the view is impressive, I could just imagine what it would be like standing on the ground. The descent into Bozeman was one of the most dramatic and impressive sights I have witnessed. The Airport is nestled in a valley surrounded by large mountains that loom like a wall cutting us off from the world we left behind and urging us further to the west.
11:00 Mountain Time: We headed to the baggage claim and collected our belongings and grabbed the keys to the rental car. We received a free upgrade from a base line SUV to an Infiniti with a cracked windshield and we loaded up and headed to town. We Arrived at Walmart in Bozeman that had a view of the not too distant Mountains and I told Kieth that it was the most beautiful Walmart I hat ever seen. We bought a 96 can blue and white 5-day cooler and $100 worth of groceries and found the nearest fly shop to purchase licenses. We met Fishnutz there and made plans to meet up in the Gallatin Canyon.
1:00pm: We finally pointed the car northeast and headed out of Bozeman on route 90 towards the town of Three Forks. We would pick up route 287 there to Helena and then through the Prickly Pear pass to Wolf Creek where we would be staying at Montana River Outfitters and fish the Missouri River below the Holter Dam. Since the speed limit was 70 mile per hour, we felt safe following the traffic at about 85 and we were still slowing down the locals. We traveled through the wide valleys at 85 miles per hour and seemed to go nowhere. The scale of this place is wild. Everything is so distant and the term un-believable kept escaping Kieth and my lips. After we finally reached Helena, we decided to stop for lunch. The steaks at Applebee’s in Helena seemed to taste better than the ones served in Albany, NY and I daydreamed about the fish that we would be putting our flies over in just a few short hours. These visions were rudely cut short as an entire glass of diet coke washed over my lap. Kieth had knocked his glass over with the map and now his entire beverage was on me. I told the waitress, he was cut-off. After lunch we headed out of Helena and into some canyon country. Prickly Pear Pass cut through the landscape next to the Prickly Pear Creek and created the red rock canyons the west is known for. The landscape was dry and hot. We had landed in the middle of a record breaking summer for heat. Bozeman had the hottest day on record, the most days over 100 in July and the hottest July on record, this year. At 2pm, the temperature gauge in the car read 98 degrees.
4:00 pm: We pulled into the MRO fly shop and grabbed the keys to the room. The room was minimal but air conditioned, clean and it had a shower. In fact someone had left us the latest copy of Playboy so that was nice. We unpacked while our new neighbors inquired about where we were from, how long we were staying, and gave us there opinions about the fishery.
We finally got settled, geared up and drove the 2 miles to the river. My first impression of the Missouri was from the Wolf Creek Bridge. The water was flat and moving at a nice walking speed. The color looked green however; I could tell this was due to the dense weeds that flowed in the current. A trout nosed up and gently rose in the middle of the river as if to say, “We are here and waiting, get off the bridge, the water is fine.”
We had a spot chosen by our host at the shop and we headed down the path, through the zig-zag in the fence and down the river on the left side. The river took a sharp bend and we could see from our vantage point a few nice trout hanging in the current. With no apparent way to cast at these, we continued on. ¼ mile down from the bridge, we encountered a shallow flat. Caddis were bouncing off the water here and there and once in a while we would see a rise.
I entered the river adjacent to one of these risers and started to strip some line out of my reel for the first time in the state of Montana. I quickly noticed that the current of the Missouri had more subtleties than first apparent and my first presentations were too inadequate for my chosen riser. Still, I did not spook the fish and he rose continuously while ignoring my offerings. I stepped back and shuffled upstream of the fish and laid a descent pile cast 2 feet from where he was rising. I thought this was too close but he took anyways and I landed an 8 inch brown without my fanfare. He did put up quite the fight for his size and I thought about the monsters that were rumored to be swimming in these waters. I caught two more trout of this size and we decided to head back to the bridge early.
3 Mule deer were in the field on the way back and a 3 foot river otter was playing in the water up by the bridge. Meanwhile the caddis had hit the water. Billions of them were flying all around and smashing into our face. We fished through this cloud of bugs but only saw sporadic risers and hooked no more fish. Back at the room, we ate and polished off a few Corona Lights. The shower at MRO was more than adequate. We drifted off to sleep quickly dreaming of the float we would be taking tomorrow.
July 19th
6:00 am We woke early to meet up with the guys from MRO at 7. They had promised to have the boat ready to go at 7 and they kept their promise. We stopped by the local gas station for coffee and donuts and headed out. On the way down to the Missouri, it looked like there were trees on fire. This turned out to be clouds of tricos going through their mating swarms and they would be on the water within 2 hours. After the boat was loaded, Kieth and I started watching what the guides who were already on the water were doing. I took first turn at the oars and we floated around up by the dam. We were trying a two nymph rig and an indicator but this proved fruitless. The tricos were really dropping by this time and we decided to float to find something happening. We pulled into a back-eddy were we thought there were some risers. We were right. The tricos matted the water and collected together in huge piles. Pods of 50 to 60 trout moved through, rising every few inches and covering an area the size of a ping pong table. This is where Kieth and I fell apart. We had never seen rising trout in these numbers. I hooked the boat oars, my vest on the floor and myself. When I finally did get a descent cast into the water, I lost my fly instantly in the sheer numbers of natural bugs on the water. About 15 casts later, I went to cast and my rod doubled over and bucked hard. The fish peeled line off the reel and ran into my backing. Then turned and came at me so fast, I thought I had lost it. The line came tight again and the fish turned and ran again. This time it did come loose and I set up to fish again. I hooked 2 more fish but lost them after brief battles. I finally checked my fly and it was bent straight back. Dam that trout fever that makes us lose our minds and common sense. I changed flies and finally got a good hook-up on a decent fish. This fish I landed after a good battle. These Missouri fish can really pull. Kieth and I hooked a few more but failed to land them.
11:00 am: The Tricos have ended for today. The pod of fish has dispersed and the rises have become more sporadic. We pulled up anchor and rowed over to a run some guides were concentrating on rather hard. They seemed to erow their clients through the run then walk back up the side of the river, pushing the drift boats and then rowing through the run again. They would do this with the 2 nymph rigs so Kieth and I headed over and slipped into the rotation. Nobody acknowledged our presence but the guides didn’t seem too upset at us so we kept fishing. With myself at the oars, Kieth landed two fish and lost a few others. I did not seem to have the feel for drifting the nymphs. Maybe I was holding my mouth wrong.
1:00 pm: Man is it hot. 100 degrees today and the only clouds was the smoke from a nearby fire. About 30 miles away, they had evacuated the next town over. Storms from the last few days had ignited quite a few fires in this part of Montana.
We decided to pull over and have lunch. I made a sandwich of cold cuts we bought the day before in Walmart and tried to drink as much water as possible. Then, I took my waders off and laid down in the water. It was so enjoyable I didn’t notice that Kieth had picked up his rod and was fishing. “Fish On!” he yelled and a huge rainbow took to the air. I jumped up and grabbed the camera and net from the boat. The fish jumped again, this time even higher and screamed into the main current. We finally landed the monster and took some pictures. We estimated the fish length on the rod, later finding out that this fish was close to 23 inches. The fish took a size 22 bead head RS2 that was trailed off a lightning bug slightly larger.
2:00pm: The caddis starting off the water about now. Pods of 10-12 fish started showing on the bank structure and Kieth and I had to experiment on the best way to set up on these fish. After spooking our fair share, we found that 25 feet above and 25 feet into the current was the best placement. This made a long pile cast and then a need to feed line into the drift quickly but it was successful. I hooked 10-12 fish and landed 4 or 5 ranging from 16-18 inches. Kieth struggled a bit with the dry fly as you had to be right on with the drift. At 3pm we headed under the Wolf Creek Bridge and we had 6 more mile to go to Craig where our car would be waiting. The fishing continued to be good for only 1 or 2 more miles and we hooked a few more fish. It petered out though and we were forced to row against an upstream wind for 4 miles with no fishing opportunities. We saw a few large carp but they had spooked before we saw them.
8:00pm: We pulled into the launch and rolled up to the bar, Izacks. The Jack and Cokes went down pretty smooth and we told stories about NY and listened to Montana Stories for a few hours. Apparently someone took a bit of offense to our comparing the Missouri and the Delaware because as we left the bar I overheard someone say, “If I have to hear one more story about the Delaware!” Well, we were leaving anyways so I guess he wouldn’t have to. Sleep came easy after this long day and we made final plans to meet Henry’s Fork Dork in the morning and float from the dam to the Wolf Creek bridge only.
July 20th
7:00 am: The tricos are in the air again. Billions of them. Henry’s Fork Dork was meeting us around 9, so after a coffee and a muffin, we headed to the eddy where the trout had been seen gulping the tricos the day before. Unfortunately, they were just out of reach but they were there. About 9, HFD showed up with his boat and we prepared for a float. We tried to park the boat in the scum line again but the wind kicked up a bit and did not allow the trico spinner to accumulate like the day before. We were later to learn that the river had dropped 300 cfs which made the dry fly drifts maddeningly slow and would keep the caddis fishing tough as well.
Caddis and Tricos in the Weeds
10:00am: We realized that the Trico fishing was not going to work this morning with the breeze, and we headed out into the current to join the rotation in the guide’s favorite run. The fishing was easy with the 2 nymph rigs. The drift was attained by a 45 degree downstream cast and a single upstream mend. The indicator would float along with the boat and finally jump under the water. Kieth hit a small bow right away and HFD hit the breaks. With the anchor dropped I hooked a pig. The fish screamed away at the pressure and I tried to ease him closer to the boat. He wouldn’t come. After a five minute tug of war, I finally landed one of the large browns the Missouri River is famous for. What colors on this fish.
12:00pm: I took a turn at the oars so Sid could fish and we all hooked 6 more fish but couldn’t close the deal as we did the loop 3 or 4 more times. Kieth hooked a fish that screamed into his backing downstream. He pleaded with me to raise the anchor and follow the fish and I kept telling him to crank down and get the fish back up here. Finally as the backing kept disappearing, I pulled on the anchor rope and started chasing the fish. It thrashed on the surface and as we neared it, the fish rolled up in the leader and broke off. We all hooked some of these monster schizophrenic fish during today’s float.
It occurred to me as we walked the boat up the Missouri River that Lewis and Clark did this same thing a couple hundred years ago. Of course they were not pulling a beautiful fiberglass Clackacraft easily up river but whatever.
As we continued down the river, I mentioned to HFD that we had found fish in the skinniest water you could find and I flipped my line into the water next to the bank. The indicator twitched, I pulled back on the rod and the fish of the trip skied out of the water and headed straight upstream. It was a thick bodied bow and finally it shook off but what a fish that was.
We stopped at the spot Kieth had hooked his monster the day before and had lunch. HFD had brought some great lunch meat and we watched as a guide pulled right into our “Secret Spot.” He hooked one nice fish and kept moving. “Well, I guess this spot isn’t so secret,” I joked. After lunch I reapplied some sunscreen and hit the river. It was again about 100 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. As we headed down to the flat turn we noticed a few fish in inches of water. I set up on them and the sunscreen flowed right into my eyes. I started crying like a baby and couldn’t see a thing. I put my nymphs out into the flat and through the tears I noticed a fish turn on it’s side and shake it’s head. I set up and the fish screamed off the flat like a bonefish. I was crying as I landed the fish not because I was happy or sad but the sunscreen burned like hell.
I managed to hook one more fish through the tears before the entire flat spooked. The fish remained but we hooked no more. HFD spotted a decent carp but we couldn’t get a look at a fly. We must have spooked him somehow.
2:00pm: The caddis never showed and we tried to get sporadic risers to come to our flies but it was not to be. We hooked no more fish until 5 when we pulled the boat out and HFD had to head home. Kieth and I actually decided that we would head out as well to get closer to the party in the Gallatin Range and packed, told MRO that we would be leaving tonight, took showers and hit the road.
After a great meal in Bozeman, we got lost heading out of town. When we finally came to civilization, we were parked right in front of a full nude strip club. After some half hearted discussions, we moved on to find a room. We pulled in front of the Gallatin Gateway Inn and walked through the front door confident we could not afford a place as nice as this one. The lady at the front desk told us that they had one room left and it was only $129 per night. “Great! We’ll take it!”
11:00pm: The Gallatin Gateway Inn has a great bar and the bartender, a former fishing guide assured us that the fishing in the canyon would be good.
More to come as I get it posted Read more at "The Adventure Journal" on Anglers Net I will try and get it posted here too.
Montana July 18-25, 2007
July 17th
5:30pm Eastern Time: Today was brutal, as the day before a weeklong trip tends to be. Seven days in southwestern Montana. I can’t believe that it is finally here. We have been planning this trip since February and while talking about it, I kept feeling like someone else was going and I was telling people about a friend of mine that was going to Montana. However, it was me leaving work and telling people that I’d be out all week, finishing up some odds and ends and heading out the door.
11:00pm Eastern Time: Odds and ends are tied up and the gear is packed. Sleep came surprisingly easy for me tonight.
July 18th
I awoke suddenly. Did I miss it? 2 Am. What day is it? I peed and headed off to sleep again. The next time I opened my eyes, it was 3am. Then it started. My mind was awake and my body wanted more sleep. I thought about the trip. I always wanted Montana. The trout per mile numbers rivaled the summer I spent guiding in Alaska and this time I envisioned dry flies instead of egg flies and indicators. I tried to tune out all the thoughts and lay still for at least 15 minutes. I glanced at the clock. 3:01 Am. This continued until 4:30 when I got up, took a shower and packed the car. I went back upstairs, kissed my wife and drove away.
6:00 Am Eastern Time: I met Kieth at the Newspaper and it was a smooth transition. I was ready. Kieth was ready. In the airport, we were so excited, wee walked up to the wrong terminal and couldn’t figure out why they did not have us listed. We figured it all out, went up to the Delta counter this time and received our boarding passes. The first leg of the trip to Chicago was on time and left a few minutes early. We figured if we could get through Chicago, we would be alright however, we knew from a trip to Colorado a few years back, this was not always an easy task. That trip was labeled “The Nearly Disastrous Trip” and we were not looking for a repeat of that one.
9:00 Am Central Time: Chicago. I sat, watching bags being loaded on the plane. Mine was in the mix, I could relax. We boarded the plane that would take us to Bozeman, the captain came on and predicted smooth sailing and we took off, on time. The flight is 2 hours and 40 minutes and 1000 miles, 61 degrees and 2hrs flight time. Looking out the window, I could tell we were leaving the mid-west and entering some gorgeous country. At 11,000 feet, if the view is impressive, I could just imagine what it would be like standing on the ground. The descent into Bozeman was one of the most dramatic and impressive sights I have witnessed. The Airport is nestled in a valley surrounded by large mountains that loom like a wall cutting us off from the world we left behind and urging us further to the west.
11:00 Mountain Time: We headed to the baggage claim and collected our belongings and grabbed the keys to the rental car. We received a free upgrade from a base line SUV to an Infiniti with a cracked windshield and we loaded up and headed to town. We Arrived at Walmart in Bozeman that had a view of the not too distant Mountains and I told Kieth that it was the most beautiful Walmart I hat ever seen. We bought a 96 can blue and white 5-day cooler and $100 worth of groceries and found the nearest fly shop to purchase licenses. We met Fishnutz there and made plans to meet up in the Gallatin Canyon.
1:00pm: We finally pointed the car northeast and headed out of Bozeman on route 90 towards the town of Three Forks. We would pick up route 287 there to Helena and then through the Prickly Pear pass to Wolf Creek where we would be staying at Montana River Outfitters and fish the Missouri River below the Holter Dam. Since the speed limit was 70 mile per hour, we felt safe following the traffic at about 85 and we were still slowing down the locals. We traveled through the wide valleys at 85 miles per hour and seemed to go nowhere. The scale of this place is wild. Everything is so distant and the term un-believable kept escaping Kieth and my lips. After we finally reached Helena, we decided to stop for lunch. The steaks at Applebee’s in Helena seemed to taste better than the ones served in Albany, NY and I daydreamed about the fish that we would be putting our flies over in just a few short hours. These visions were rudely cut short as an entire glass of diet coke washed over my lap. Kieth had knocked his glass over with the map and now his entire beverage was on me. I told the waitress, he was cut-off. After lunch we headed out of Helena and into some canyon country. Prickly Pear Pass cut through the landscape next to the Prickly Pear Creek and created the red rock canyons the west is known for. The landscape was dry and hot. We had landed in the middle of a record breaking summer for heat. Bozeman had the hottest day on record, the most days over 100 in July and the hottest July on record, this year. At 2pm, the temperature gauge in the car read 98 degrees.
4:00 pm: We pulled into the MRO fly shop and grabbed the keys to the room. The room was minimal but air conditioned, clean and it had a shower. In fact someone had left us the latest copy of Playboy so that was nice. We unpacked while our new neighbors inquired about where we were from, how long we were staying, and gave us there opinions about the fishery.
We finally got settled, geared up and drove the 2 miles to the river. My first impression of the Missouri was from the Wolf Creek Bridge. The water was flat and moving at a nice walking speed. The color looked green however; I could tell this was due to the dense weeds that flowed in the current. A trout nosed up and gently rose in the middle of the river as if to say, “We are here and waiting, get off the bridge, the water is fine.”
We had a spot chosen by our host at the shop and we headed down the path, through the zig-zag in the fence and down the river on the left side. The river took a sharp bend and we could see from our vantage point a few nice trout hanging in the current. With no apparent way to cast at these, we continued on. ¼ mile down from the bridge, we encountered a shallow flat. Caddis were bouncing off the water here and there and once in a while we would see a rise.
I entered the river adjacent to one of these risers and started to strip some line out of my reel for the first time in the state of Montana. I quickly noticed that the current of the Missouri had more subtleties than first apparent and my first presentations were too inadequate for my chosen riser. Still, I did not spook the fish and he rose continuously while ignoring my offerings. I stepped back and shuffled upstream of the fish and laid a descent pile cast 2 feet from where he was rising. I thought this was too close but he took anyways and I landed an 8 inch brown without my fanfare. He did put up quite the fight for his size and I thought about the monsters that were rumored to be swimming in these waters. I caught two more trout of this size and we decided to head back to the bridge early.
3 Mule deer were in the field on the way back and a 3 foot river otter was playing in the water up by the bridge. Meanwhile the caddis had hit the water. Billions of them were flying all around and smashing into our face. We fished through this cloud of bugs but only saw sporadic risers and hooked no more fish. Back at the room, we ate and polished off a few Corona Lights. The shower at MRO was more than adequate. We drifted off to sleep quickly dreaming of the float we would be taking tomorrow.
July 19th
6:00 am We woke early to meet up with the guys from MRO at 7. They had promised to have the boat ready to go at 7 and they kept their promise. We stopped by the local gas station for coffee and donuts and headed out. On the way down to the Missouri, it looked like there were trees on fire. This turned out to be clouds of tricos going through their mating swarms and they would be on the water within 2 hours. After the boat was loaded, Kieth and I started watching what the guides who were already on the water were doing. I took first turn at the oars and we floated around up by the dam. We were trying a two nymph rig and an indicator but this proved fruitless. The tricos were really dropping by this time and we decided to float to find something happening. We pulled into a back-eddy were we thought there were some risers. We were right. The tricos matted the water and collected together in huge piles. Pods of 50 to 60 trout moved through, rising every few inches and covering an area the size of a ping pong table. This is where Kieth and I fell apart. We had never seen rising trout in these numbers. I hooked the boat oars, my vest on the floor and myself. When I finally did get a descent cast into the water, I lost my fly instantly in the sheer numbers of natural bugs on the water. About 15 casts later, I went to cast and my rod doubled over and bucked hard. The fish peeled line off the reel and ran into my backing. Then turned and came at me so fast, I thought I had lost it. The line came tight again and the fish turned and ran again. This time it did come loose and I set up to fish again. I hooked 2 more fish but lost them after brief battles. I finally checked my fly and it was bent straight back. Dam that trout fever that makes us lose our minds and common sense. I changed flies and finally got a good hook-up on a decent fish. This fish I landed after a good battle. These Missouri fish can really pull. Kieth and I hooked a few more but failed to land them.
11:00 am: The Tricos have ended for today. The pod of fish has dispersed and the rises have become more sporadic. We pulled up anchor and rowed over to a run some guides were concentrating on rather hard. They seemed to erow their clients through the run then walk back up the side of the river, pushing the drift boats and then rowing through the run again. They would do this with the 2 nymph rigs so Kieth and I headed over and slipped into the rotation. Nobody acknowledged our presence but the guides didn’t seem too upset at us so we kept fishing. With myself at the oars, Kieth landed two fish and lost a few others. I did not seem to have the feel for drifting the nymphs. Maybe I was holding my mouth wrong.
1:00 pm: Man is it hot. 100 degrees today and the only clouds was the smoke from a nearby fire. About 30 miles away, they had evacuated the next town over. Storms from the last few days had ignited quite a few fires in this part of Montana.
We decided to pull over and have lunch. I made a sandwich of cold cuts we bought the day before in Walmart and tried to drink as much water as possible. Then, I took my waders off and laid down in the water. It was so enjoyable I didn’t notice that Kieth had picked up his rod and was fishing. “Fish On!” he yelled and a huge rainbow took to the air. I jumped up and grabbed the camera and net from the boat. The fish jumped again, this time even higher and screamed into the main current. We finally landed the monster and took some pictures. We estimated the fish length on the rod, later finding out that this fish was close to 23 inches. The fish took a size 22 bead head RS2 that was trailed off a lightning bug slightly larger.
2:00pm: The caddis starting off the water about now. Pods of 10-12 fish started showing on the bank structure and Kieth and I had to experiment on the best way to set up on these fish. After spooking our fair share, we found that 25 feet above and 25 feet into the current was the best placement. This made a long pile cast and then a need to feed line into the drift quickly but it was successful. I hooked 10-12 fish and landed 4 or 5 ranging from 16-18 inches. Kieth struggled a bit with the dry fly as you had to be right on with the drift. At 3pm we headed under the Wolf Creek Bridge and we had 6 more mile to go to Craig where our car would be waiting. The fishing continued to be good for only 1 or 2 more miles and we hooked a few more fish. It petered out though and we were forced to row against an upstream wind for 4 miles with no fishing opportunities. We saw a few large carp but they had spooked before we saw them.
8:00pm: We pulled into the launch and rolled up to the bar, Izacks. The Jack and Cokes went down pretty smooth and we told stories about NY and listened to Montana Stories for a few hours. Apparently someone took a bit of offense to our comparing the Missouri and the Delaware because as we left the bar I overheard someone say, “If I have to hear one more story about the Delaware!” Well, we were leaving anyways so I guess he wouldn’t have to. Sleep came easy after this long day and we made final plans to meet Henry’s Fork Dork in the morning and float from the dam to the Wolf Creek bridge only.
July 20th
7:00 am: The tricos are in the air again. Billions of them. Henry’s Fork Dork was meeting us around 9, so after a coffee and a muffin, we headed to the eddy where the trout had been seen gulping the tricos the day before. Unfortunately, they were just out of reach but they were there. About 9, HFD showed up with his boat and we prepared for a float. We tried to park the boat in the scum line again but the wind kicked up a bit and did not allow the trico spinner to accumulate like the day before. We were later to learn that the river had dropped 300 cfs which made the dry fly drifts maddeningly slow and would keep the caddis fishing tough as well.
Caddis and Tricos in the Weeds
10:00am: We realized that the Trico fishing was not going to work this morning with the breeze, and we headed out into the current to join the rotation in the guide’s favorite run. The fishing was easy with the 2 nymph rigs. The drift was attained by a 45 degree downstream cast and a single upstream mend. The indicator would float along with the boat and finally jump under the water. Kieth hit a small bow right away and HFD hit the breaks. With the anchor dropped I hooked a pig. The fish screamed away at the pressure and I tried to ease him closer to the boat. He wouldn’t come. After a five minute tug of war, I finally landed one of the large browns the Missouri River is famous for. What colors on this fish.
12:00pm: I took a turn at the oars so Sid could fish and we all hooked 6 more fish but couldn’t close the deal as we did the loop 3 or 4 more times. Kieth hooked a fish that screamed into his backing downstream. He pleaded with me to raise the anchor and follow the fish and I kept telling him to crank down and get the fish back up here. Finally as the backing kept disappearing, I pulled on the anchor rope and started chasing the fish. It thrashed on the surface and as we neared it, the fish rolled up in the leader and broke off. We all hooked some of these monster schizophrenic fish during today’s float.
It occurred to me as we walked the boat up the Missouri River that Lewis and Clark did this same thing a couple hundred years ago. Of course they were not pulling a beautiful fiberglass Clackacraft easily up river but whatever.
As we continued down the river, I mentioned to HFD that we had found fish in the skinniest water you could find and I flipped my line into the water next to the bank. The indicator twitched, I pulled back on the rod and the fish of the trip skied out of the water and headed straight upstream. It was a thick bodied bow and finally it shook off but what a fish that was.
We stopped at the spot Kieth had hooked his monster the day before and had lunch. HFD had brought some great lunch meat and we watched as a guide pulled right into our “Secret Spot.” He hooked one nice fish and kept moving. “Well, I guess this spot isn’t so secret,” I joked. After lunch I reapplied some sunscreen and hit the river. It was again about 100 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. As we headed down to the flat turn we noticed a few fish in inches of water. I set up on them and the sunscreen flowed right into my eyes. I started crying like a baby and couldn’t see a thing. I put my nymphs out into the flat and through the tears I noticed a fish turn on it’s side and shake it’s head. I set up and the fish screamed off the flat like a bonefish. I was crying as I landed the fish not because I was happy or sad but the sunscreen burned like hell.
I managed to hook one more fish through the tears before the entire flat spooked. The fish remained but we hooked no more. HFD spotted a decent carp but we couldn’t get a look at a fly. We must have spooked him somehow.
2:00pm: The caddis never showed and we tried to get sporadic risers to come to our flies but it was not to be. We hooked no more fish until 5 when we pulled the boat out and HFD had to head home. Kieth and I actually decided that we would head out as well to get closer to the party in the Gallatin Range and packed, told MRO that we would be leaving tonight, took showers and hit the road.
After a great meal in Bozeman, we got lost heading out of town. When we finally came to civilization, we were parked right in front of a full nude strip club. After some half hearted discussions, we moved on to find a room. We pulled in front of the Gallatin Gateway Inn and walked through the front door confident we could not afford a place as nice as this one. The lady at the front desk told us that they had one room left and it was only $129 per night. “Great! We’ll take it!”
11:00pm: The Gallatin Gateway Inn has a great bar and the bartender, a former fishing guide assured us that the fishing in the canyon would be good.
More to come as I get it posted Read more at "The Adventure Journal" on Anglers Net I will try and get it posted here too.
